Harmful Side Effects
by Ridley C. James
Summary: Missing Scene for Episode 1:11 Screwdriver. Mac deals with the aftermath of Jack's interrogation by their terrorist target, discovering Jack's not the only one suffering from the lingering side effects of what transpired.


Harmful Side Effects

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: A little story just because tonight is the night our boys are back and I wanted to celebrate. I was also determined to get one last tag in for Season one, before Season two officially starts! Yay. This is a fluffy scene for 1:11 Screwdriver. There were many things I did not like about this episode. Nikki's quick fix and Thornton's betrayal being the big two. But there were a few things I loved , like the Jack scene in the beginning. The way he talks about Mac, and the look on his face when he thinks Mac might really have been shot-priceless. So that scene is the one I focused on, or right after it anyhow, and the fact Jack was at Mac's when we saw them next just got me to thinking…I hope you enjoy! Can't wait to see what the new season brings. PS. I have not forgotten about For Family! Chapter 3 is on it's way-hopefully tomorrow!Please forgive all errors as my awesome beta is still on vacation!

RcJ

Sodium pentothal, better known as truth serum was to blame for Angus MacGyver's current predicament. The drug was often high-lighted in cop dramas and spy movies as having the amazing ability to make a person reveal all pf one's secrets. Being a real life spy himself, Mac understood that outside the scope of oh so many script writer's imaginations, sodium pentothal, more commonly named sodium thiopental, in actuality did not provoke one to spontaneously regurgitate every private thought but merely made the subject much more open to interrogation, pliable and not as prone to censor themselves-speaking automatically and unthinkingly. Sodium thiopental could compromise even the most stalwart of defenses.

Truth Serum was originally conceptualized to exonerate prisoners. It was also used for a time to aid soldiers suffering from Post Trauma Stress Disorder-before PTSD was an actual diagnosis or even truly understood. Like a lot of noble concepts, it had been twisted through the years by those with much more nefarious intentions, for instance the derivative known as 'the date rape' drug.

Mac was no hypocrite. As a man of science he was not above manipulating medicine to bring about a greater good. He, however, found it hard to remain clinical and logical when the stuff had been used on his partner.

The problem with the barbiturate based drug was that it could be lethal if used improperly. Overdoses were far too common. Like any depressant the chemical worked to suppress not only resistance to things one wouldn't normally do, but respiratory and cardiovascular functions as well. In a perfect world, only trained medical professionals should have administered the drug. The terrorist who had pumped it into Mac's partner via a questionably sterile IV so he could ascertain who Jack was working with and what he knew of the man's operation was most assuredly not a doctor. Punching him in the face was so worth every bit of pain Mac was currently experiencing from his still throbbing hand.

The small satisfaction of breaking their now prisoner's nose did little to keep Mac from mentally recalling all the things that could have gone wrong before he was able to get Jack free. He glanced across the aisle of Phoenix's jet to stare at his partner. Jack had been a handful to get on the plane, but once they were in the air, it hadn't taken much persuasion on Mac's part to get him to settle down. He'd quickly succumbed to the drug pumping through his system and effectively passed out. For all intents and purposes, Jack now looked like he usually did when he was completely worn with exhaustion from a hard mission or sleeping off a night of rare indulgence when he and Mac might have gotten shitfaced just for the hell of it. That didn't happen often because the sheer downtime to recover from a bender simply wasn't a luxury they were afforded. They had to be sharp and at the top of their game on a minute's notice.

"Being on point wasn't our problem on this mission, was it, partner?" Mac asked, keeping his voice soft. Still Jack shifted slightly, mumbling something that sounded like Mac's name. They'd been in the air over five hours, and Mac still hadn't gotten any shuteye, his mind too consumed with racing thoughts. He grabbed the blanket beside him, and made his way across the aisle to take a seat on the edge of the couch. He carefully covered the older agent with the Cowboy's throw before leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees. Mac rested his head in his hands. "No, we were on top of our game."

Mac and Jack had been in perfect sync, infiltrating the bad guy's network, ferreting out the ring leader who was behind the proposed terrorist attack that was in the final planning stages if their intelligence was correct. They only needed to manage a breach of his compound, which still remained a secret despite their investigation, to finish their extraction of the wanted international criminal.

It would take a little finesse, which is why Jack so quickly agreed to Mac's plan that Jack be very vocal about asking after their suspect at the dicey local bar where some of the alleged constituents of his terror cell were known to visit. It worked like a charm in as much as Jack was quickly ambushed on his way out and taken prisoner. The tracking device Mac had fashioned worked its magic but once Jack was underground-which Mac had not allowed for- Mac had lost signal. Said hitch had made it harder for Mac to extrapolate the exact location, which he finally managed with Riley's help via satellite, but it had also cost him precious time. Time, their terrorist suspect had alone with Jack.

Mac had expected Jack to be roughed up, but understood the treatment wouldn't be anything new. Jack had known as much as well, even without factoring in Mac's timeline being screwed. It was one of the reasons he'd readily jumped at Mac's suggestion, willing to be the one on the receiving end of any harsh treatment if it meant Mac was not. Being taken prisoner was sometimes part of the reuse they used, a ploy they both had endured and survived at one time or another. Still, Jack always insisted he was better suited for the role as sitting duck because of his training with the CIA. Mac had stopped arguing the point that he'd had basically the same training, albeit unconventionally, in Afghanistan and then there was of course Cairo. Bringing up bad memories however only seemed to solidify Jack's stalwartness and his dogged determination to protect Mac from anymore occurrences of on the job training.

Sometimes Mac found his ability to go along with his partner's rationale, which often entailed him compartmentalizing the more unpleasant aspects of what they did, a bit unsettling, especially when he was able to push aside his worst fears about failing those he loved most all in the name of accomplishing a job. This job, like most, involved not only their lives, but the lives of hundreds, maybe even thousands of innocent people. Perhaps Mac was rationalizing, but at the time almost any risk appeared worthy of stopping the destruction of so many. In the end, he'd stuck to the plan, foregoing calling in any additional help when he lost contact with Jack, confident in his and his partner's ability to accomplish their mission.

"I didn't think about him drugging you," Mac admitted quietly. He looked at Jack who had grown more restless with Mac's near presence. The air seemed suddenly unsuitable for breathing, as if Mac's lungs were rejecting the mixture. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to recall all the things that could have gone wrong with the terrorist's tactic. Brute force was almost preferable. Jack was formidable even tied to a chair and in the face of certain brutality. Mac had unfortunately witnessed his best friend maintain his often times maddening bravado while being beaten, electrocuted and even water boarded. His fortitude was impressive, which was perhaps why finding Jack hooked to an IV and so obviously incapacitated and vulnerable in such an emotional way had rattled Mac.

Jack had been so relieved to see Mac, almost as if he'd been unsure of a rescue. He'd confessed immediately to telling the terrorist about Phoenix, retelling that particular story over and over again on their way back to the plane-apologizing profusely for the part where he'd revealed Mac's identity.

"I think we should leave out that entire part when we debrief with Patty." Mac said again, looking to Jack as if he might once again disagree with Mac as he had in the car. Jack felt the need to confess, as if he had failed at some part of the mission and was duty bound to accept whatever punishment Thornton saw fit to dole out. Mac countered, like he had back in Jack's cell, that the terrorist would be locked away for life and posed no risk to any of their team or their day to day operations. No harm, no foul. "Maybe you'll forget all about it when you wake up."

Memory loss was possible. It was more common with other forms of barbiturate drugs, but still considering the amount used on Jack, it couldn't be ruled out. Thoughts of the two vials Jack had related his captor using had Mac's anxiety rearing its ugly head again and him wishing he could be the one with the short term amnesia. He rested his hand on his partner's chest, letting the steady rise and fall, keep his own breathing regular, keeping Mac's rising panic at bay.

The touch had Jack muttering once more. This time the words were louder and coherent. Mac caught his name, along with 'please' and 'no'. What he'd hoped was merely Jack talking in his sleep was quickly edging into nightmare territory. Mac was all too familiar with the signs as he had become somewhat of an expert on bad dreams. Mostly his own, but sometimes his partner's as well. They spent too much time together in close quarters not to understand each other's demons.

Mac moved to grasp his partner's wrist, to assure his best friend that he wasn't alone but stopped short when he caught site of the abrasions caused by the restraints. He settled for squeezing Jack's hand, wishing he had the same ease at offering a steadying presence that Jack possessed. For a tough guy, Jack was as emotionally intelligent as they came.

On the contrary, reassurances often felt awkward for Mac, whether he was on the receiving end or trying to instill them. For all his aptitudes in other areas, Mac felt retarded and challenged when it came to showing his feelings. He'd blame his father for not modelling such a capacity to give and accept the bare minimal of affection if he hadn't had Jack in his life for the past six years. It was hard to claim one hadn't been afforded unconditional positive regard in the formidable years when Jack Dalton had been playing his part as Mac's big brother since Mac was nineteen.

When Jack jerked in his sleep, his face relaying the unpleasantness of whatever was going on in his subconscious Mac felt that ending whatever scenes were running through his partner's head far outweighed any benefit of sleeping off the last of the truth serum. Mac let go of Jack's hand, reaching to for his shoulder just as Jack bolted awake, nearly knocking Mac to the floor when he sat up with a shout of 'No'.

"Jack." Mac reached out and gripped his partner's arm, not only steadying himself but anchoring his partner to the present. "Hey. It's all good. We're safe."

"Mac?" Jack blinked, looking much more with it than he had earlier despite the fact he appeared thoroughly shaken by whatever he'd been dreaming.

"I'm here." Mac said, letting his friend go. "Are you…"

Mac's question was cut off by Jack grabbing him in the second bone crushing bear hug of the day. This time there was no profession of undying love, but instead Jack let out a string of curses followed by a colorful Texas colloquialism that did more to relieve Mac's worry about his friend's mental functions being depressed than the recitations he'd made him do earlier which included Jack telling Mac the name of his hometown, the current president of the United States and the 2016 roster for the Dallas Cowboys winning offensive line.

"Damn, bud," Jack said as he let Mac go and drew back just enough to keep hold of Mac's shoulders. "I thought you were dead. When that bastard kept firing the gun and I saw the blood…"

"Chocolate sauce," Mac corrected, now understanding what Jack's dream had been about.

"Unless we're both dead," Jack rushed on with a grimace. He released his hold on Mac's shoulders, but moved his grip to the back of Mac's neck, giving it another slight squeeze before offering the younger agent a worried frown. "Are we dead?"

Mac's concern for Jack's mental acuity returned once more but before he could say as much his partner let him go, giving a slight shake of his head. "Never mind, brother." Jack rubbed a hand over his face, giving a soft groan. "I'm pretty sure my head wouldn't be feeling as if it might shatter into a million pieces if I was in fact in the afterlife."

"We're definitely not dead." Mac said, gently. When Jack looked at him through narrowed eyes he offered a slight grin. "Although considering the intensity of barbiturate hangovers and that they can last up to thirty-six hours you might wish you were before the sodium pentothal is completely out of your system."

"Sonofabitch." Jack pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I almost wish the bastard had just tried to beat the information out of me."

"He either considered himself more civilized than most of the criminals we deal with or he realized right away how hard your head is." Mac offered another smile when Jack gave a scowl. Mac would have preferred he made it to rescue Jack before anything bad had happened to him. "Either way, at least you won't have to visit Sally when we get back to Phoenix."

"There is that," Jack rubbed his hand over the dark bruise on his arm where the IV had been. "But with my luck I'll probably end up with tetanus or gangrene. And my head hasn't hurt this freakin' bad since we got hammered after the old Russian guy died on our watch a few months back."

Mac tried not to think about Russia or the last time he'd been talked into a night of Karaoke and tequila shooters. His reluctance to remember had little to do with his partner's singing or the fair amount of time he'd spent on his knees in front of the toilet the next day, but more to do with the memories of what had happened during that particular mission. Particularly the outcome that had provoked Mac to agree to such an outing in the first place. Sometimes in his nightmares Mac saw Alexander. More specifically he recalled the bomb programmer's face as his partner, Victor, drew his last breath. The fact Victor died saving Alexander was not lost on Mac.

"How about you, bud? You okay?" Jack asked, bringing Mac back to the present. He gestured to Mac's bruised knuckles. "Did you break anything on Dr. Frankenstein's face?""

"Is the puncture wound bothering you?" Mac redirected, reaching for Jack's arm. He'd tried to be careful when removing the needle, but Jack's captor hadn't shown such finesse when starting the line. "Maybe we should have found a hospital."

"In that country?" Jack snorted, running a hand over his mouth. "Damn, brother, I feel sick as it is. Are you trying to finish me off?"

Mac didn't answer and when Jack tilted his head, studying his partner with an intensity usually reserved for the times when Mac had been the one on the bad end of a mission, the younger agent attempted to make a move for the first aid kid he'd left by his seat.

"Hey now," Jack gripped Mac's wrist so he couldn't bolt. "I'm just poking at you. No need to go getting your tighty-whities in a wad."

Mac rolled his eyes, carefully extricating himself from his partner's hold. "I'm getting some antibiotic cream for your arm and wrists and some Ibuprofen for your head, which might help with the nausea."

"And here I thought you were being all sensitive about losing track of me for a few minutes." Jack frowned, giving Mac another knowing stare.

"It was two hours," Mac corrected, realizing his misstep when Jack raised a brow as if his point had been made for him.

"Which was pretty damn impressive, considering I went underground and your homemade tracking device wasn't exactly designed for subversive maneuvers."

"Yeah, well," Mac shrugged, moving to get the med kit. "Best laid plans and all."

"You made it in time, that's all that counts." Jack said once Mac returned with the supplies. When Mac didn't respond, he continued on. "Speaking of plans..."

"Yeah?" Mac stopped digging through the kit long enough to look up at his partner.

"What the hell were you thinking with the whole postman shtick?" Jack growled, his dark eyes flashing with more than physical pain this time. "Do you know what I thought when I heard the distinctive sound of you being hit and then the whole _chocolate sauce_ oozing under the door…"

"I guess you thought what I wanted the man holding a gun on you to think," Mac went back to looking for the antibiotic cream. When he found it, he carefully took hold of Jack's wrist and pulled his arm straight. He glanced up at his best friend. "It got him to open the door, which I needed him to do since I didn't know your location and couldn't use more explosive methods for entry, but I'm sorry if I scared you."

"Scared me?" Jack shook his head as Mac smeared some of the cream over the puncture wound in his arm. "That's like saying Pennywise gives you the heebie-jeebies."

"There's no reason to bring clowns into this." Mac glared at his partner. He nearly tore the Band-aide he was opening in two. "It wasn't like I was trying to freak you out. I had no way of knowing what was happening to you. Or what condition you were in. I was improvising. It's what we do."

"I get that." Jack winced as Mac might have been a little more forceful than necessary while patting the bandage in place. "I'm just asking that next time you maybe use an improvisation that doesn't take years off my already shortened life span and add even more unwanted gray to my hair." Jack frowned at the younger man. "I have enough nightmares as it is, man."

Mac let his gaze flick to Jack's for just a moment. "That makes two of us."

Jack let out a sigh heavy with frustration. "Then how about we try to avoid giving each other anymore material, brother."

"Sure," Mac said offhandedly. Even when he looked away, he knew Jack was still studying him. Not for the first time Mac was unnerved by the fact his partner knew him too well. He was also certain that even though Mac was the one attempting to patch up Jack's physical injuries, Jack was working just as hard to take care of any invisible wounds Mac might have suffered.

"Are we going into a different line of work?" Mac teased, hoping to once more dodge his partner's attention and keen insight. "Because I'm all for opening up that private security firm anytime you are."

Jack snorted. "If I thought you'd be more careful and I'd get more nights of peaceful sleep I'd turn in my resignation tomorrow. Maybe spend a little more time on my social life."

"Social life?" Mac raised a brow. "That's a new one. Do you even know what that is? I'm not sure you've ever had one of those, and trust me when I say your multitude of _aliases_ having a girl in every port does not count."

"Well, maybe I want to make a change." Jack pulled his hand away when Mac attempted to add some antibiotic cream to one of the deeper abrasions on his wrist, obviously not trusting him after the rough treatment from before. He hugged the appendage close to his chest. "Maybe this latest mission has me thinking that I'd like to have a _Mrs._ Secret Agent in my life."

"Okay, now you're scaring me." Mac reached up and pressed his hand against Jack's forehead. "Maybe we should go visit Sally just in case."

Jack knocked his hands away. "No way in hell, bud."

"Then you're coming to my place." Mac gave up on the antibiotic cream, handing Jack the Ibuprofen and a half empty bottle of water he'd not finished from earlier. "I want to keep an eye on you the next few days just in case."

"Just in case of what?" Jack swallowed the pills, washing them down with the rest of Mac's water. "I'm fine."

"In case of side effects." Mac shoved the first aid kit back under the seat, glancing at Jack.

"What side effects?" Jack gave his partner a dubious stare.

"Headache, double vision, compromised breathing, and possible cardiovascular complications," Mac ticked off.

Jack resettled himself against the couch, giving a large yawn. "I didn't think you knew what to do if I had a heart attack."

"I don't," Mac reclaimed his seat across from Jack. "But I'm sure I could improvise long enough for an ambulance to reach us."

"That's comforting." Jack covered his legs with the Cowboy's throw, still eyeing Mac suspiciously. "Are you sure there's not some ulterior motive?"

"You're worried about my motives now." Mac shook his head, feigning disbelief. He might have had other reasons for Jack staying close. Reasons that involved a different list of side effects, ones that didn't stem directly from the truth serum and wouldn't harm Jack, but that might have a profound outcome on Mac. "I've never known you to ever need a reason or an invite for that matter to crash at my place and yet now when I'm asking you, it's an issue."

"It's not an issue, kid." Jack sighed, yawning again. "It's just not like you to hover. That's more mine or Bozer's MO."

"Okay, you got me." Mac wasn't about to give his partner the real scoop, the one in which he would be forced to explain how sodium pentothal wasn't the only thing capable of making a man do things he wouldn't typically do, or how it didn't necessarily take a drug to weaken a person's hard fought defenses. Sometimes all it took was an all too real scare to put a man's well-being in jeopardy. So Mac lied to his best friend. Sort of. "I really could use some help working on my bike."

"That sounds more like it." Jack smirked at Mac. "Manipulating me to take advantage of my great mechanical talents, huh?"

"I'll make sure Bozer feeds you well as payment for services rendered." Jack wasn't the only one who knew his partner well. "And I'll even let you watch Die Hard as many times as you want."

"Will you help me with my on-line dating profile?" Jack asked around another yawn.

"What?" Mac laughed. "You're joking right?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Jack pulled the blanket up to his chin, his eyes already closing to half-mast.

"You look like you could use about ten more hours of sleep." Mac rolled his eyes. "Not to mention a reality check."

"I'll take that as a yes." Jack's eyes closed for a second before he quickly reopened them again, meeting Mac's gaze. "And, Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"If I didn't say it before, I'm really glad you're not dead."

Mac's mouth twitched, needing no chemical prompting to reply with the absolute truth. "Right back at you, big guy."

The end…for now


End file.
